


Half Truth

by finlyfoe



Series: The R.E.M. collection [3]
Category: Homeland
Genre: F/M, Gen, Morning After, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 16:14:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7322038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finlyfoe/pseuds/finlyfoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>„You don’t say much, do you?”<br/>Neither does he eat much. Seems to live on fluids. Coffee right now.<br/>Eden, talkative, voluptuous, and Peter Quinn at a breakfast place near his apartment. Her apartment house, workwise speaking. The morning after.<br/>Enter Carrie Mathison with baby Frannie.</p><p> </p><p>A what-if from s. 4</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half Truth

**Author's Note:**

> My answer to the prompt fic bazar nr. 23/43: When Carrie met Eden...
> 
> If you like this short fic and want to find out more about the writer ->  
> http://homelandstuff.livejournal.com/11871.html#comments

„You don’t say much, do you?”

Neither does he eat much. Seems to live on fluids. Coffee right now.

Eden, talkative, voluptuous, and Peter Quinn at a breakfast place near his apartment. Which is her apartment house, workwise speaking.

It might be the first breakfast date Eden had with a morning-after-guy since - yeah since when? Probably ever. She is tired and at the same time nicely amped… that’s what an unexpected sex-encounter with a stranger does. Especially if the stranger sits right next to you instead of dartin of.  
He was cute the night before, so drunk, apologizing in incoherent sentences, gesturing wildly, all clumsy by the pool. She felt she had to make sure he got to his flat alright, supporting him - that’s the advantage of being a big girl, you can help any drunkard any time. Her brothers used to take advantage of that more than once.  
Didn’t quite take a brotherly turn with him... She can’t recall who started it but she ended up riding him into paradise. It was not, like, mind-blowing sex, but they sure had fun.  
More fun than now. He is withdrawn to the point of no return.  
Anyway, she appreciates the gesture. Here they sit in public, in a café, having breakfast. She’s not sure how to go on from here: Will they share polite yet embarrassed smiles whenever they meet per chance in the building, pretending nothing ever happened, or will they, well, get to know each other better … for real…

She gives him a smile. “You’re ok?”

“Yeah.”

“Honestly?”

A beat.  
She seems to be nice, a bit chatty but well, he doesn’t talk much and for most people it’s rough to stand the silence, so that’s probably firing her up. She sounds genuinely interested. He’s never been much of a liar. Keeping things to himself is another thing. But actively lying…. So he states: “It was kind of a rough week. A very rough week.”

Understatement of the year. _Guess what,_ _I let my boss been stamped to death by a lynch mob in Islamabad._

“Wanna talk about it?”

A tiny, fragile smile. “Yeah. But I can’t.”

_The things I do… The things we do … the damage… I can’t… I may not… I dare not… it’s so fucking complicated… my whole life is a sham…_

“If you change your mind you may find that I am a very good listener, Peter,” Eden states.

She’s also a very good observer. She has an eye for male folks and their wayward behavior. Three brothers made her realizes there can be a huge difference between what they say and what they feel. His smile seconds ago was heart-breaking, he looked so forlorn and sad… like he was in desperate need of a hug…   
Eden doesn’t dare. Chances are, he’s not for real. Chances are, she won’t be the one to take away the pain. She doesn’t even take his hand because she’s afraid he might flinch. Isn’t it a weird thing it’s so easy to shack up with a stranger at night, have him inside you and all the stuff they call intimacy…. and yet harder, so much harder to embrace that very same stranger for comfort in daylight cos you are afraid you might overstep a line? Blow up the bit of relationship you have made, last night and now here over an awkward breakfast?

She doesn’t have a crush on him, she tells herself, it’s just her hormones still running high and he seems nice and decent and there aren’t that many decent guys around. Not for her at least.  To most she is the fat lady they might screw when loosened by alcohol and unobserved but won’t be seen in public with. She gives him credit for that. The thing is, they never notice inside she is just a small fragile blonde girl hoping to get acknowledged…

A small fragile blonde girl like the one about to enter the café, pushing a pram with a crying baby. A business girl in a business suit, her air somewhat between desperate and wound up.  The guys at the next table are done with the fat lady for now and start harassing this unfit mother in absurd business chic not even able to soothe her kid… The blonde has difficulties getting the pram past the door, she throws around wild glances, trying to appease the little one: “I’ll get you an ice cream, now how does that sound?” Then overhearing the guys about “yeah, right, career women now look at that one and her fiendish off-spring”, and she turns around and snarls: “Now what do _you_ want? You giving me lectures on child care? God, I hope the likes of you don’t breed!”

Wow! So much fire under that fragile appearance! Eden’s impressed. Maybe that’s where the baby picked up her pissed-offed attitude…  
Next thing she notices: Peter has gone rigid. Eden throws him a curious glance. Is it because he feels offended by her attack on male derision? He doesn’t seem that kind of guy… Maybe he knows her, or, more likely: Maybe she reminds him of somebody? Of his woman who walked out on him taking the baby with her? It would fit, wouldn’t it, the sadness, his quiet desperation, the need for liquor and sex…

The blonde looks up, takes Peter in. Hurries towards him.  No hello, no introduction, just a: “Quinn, are you out of your fucking mind? Standing us up! Lockhart was totally pissed off… ”

“Shit… I forgot….” “Yeah, and cell phones are overrated, who cares to answer those… Any further plans to fuck up my life?”

Peter stares at her, oblivious of Eden’s presence, grinding his teeth.

“Yeah, sure”, he goes, “that’s what all this is about. Fucking up Carrie Mathison’s life. We are all in on it… A conspiracy… Sandy… only dead to annoy you… oh and the wedding guests… and me and Frannie and every fucking person on earth!”, and his expression is bordering on hate.

“Fuck you Quinn”, that Carrie utters, somewhat backpedalling though, and turns her attention to the baby, still crying in the pram. Peter suddenly looks tired, all energy drained.  
She picks up the baby, looks at her helplessly, the little one all flushed face and tight fists and wrinkles … A bewildered look in the blonde’s eyes. The face of total helplessness.

“Quinn, can you take her a minute?”, she asks with a surprisingly soft voice. “So I can get her some ice-cream maybe… ?”

“Jesus, Carrie, you can’t give her an ice-cream, she’s too young for stuff like that!” he mumbles but stretches out his hands. He takes the baby, holds her up so she looks straight into his face and asks with a soothing voice: “Hi Frannie, how are you, little pirate girl?” The baby goes quiet and stares at him, then a tiny smile shows up on her face. That Carrie gives Peter a look between astonishment and being upset. These two sure seem to have some issues….

Eden is not keen on anybody fighting. She is more of a conciliable person. So she decides to ease the tension. “Oh isn’t she adorable, just look at the lovely red hair”, Eden cooes at the baby, “hi fellow-redhead!”  
Carrie looks at Eden, realizing for the first time there is someone sitting with Quinn. “Hi”, she says, “I am Carrie.“ She makes a vague gesture towards Peter - “a colleague.”

So Peter is a business suit guy - that comes as a surprise. He looks more like a jarhead, with his plaid shirt and preference for camouflage colored clothing, mostly olive, and his closed cropped hair. Like a PTSD jarhead, all big eyes and “not quite here”-attitude.

“I am Eden. His manager.” At Carrie’s amused “I didn’t know you plan a rockstar-career, Quinn”, she adds: “Of his apartment. Building maintenance.”

Carrie doesn’t seem interested in her anymore, her focus is back on Peter. “Look, Quinn”, she goes, “you have to get in touch with Lockhart asap. Fucker wants to keep me here for good. Call him right now, you hear?!”

A beat.  
Peter doesn’t look up. The baby rests her cheek against his wishbone. He holds her head with his hand so gingerly, the other supporting her weight. The baby yawns and snuggles in.

Eden sighs. The most endearing sight in the world: A nice guy tending a child. Makes them irresistible. That Carrie seems to become aware of it too.

“Suits you, Quinn… You don’t mind holding her for a few more minutes, right, so I can go to the” - her chin indicates the bathroom “and grab a coffee”.

“Sure… which means I obviously don’t have to call Lockhart that urgently …”

“Fuck you, Quinn, course you have to… just give me five minutes and I’ll take her back and you make that call…”

He doesn’t reply. Just keeps caressing the baby. Carrie heads off. Eden throws Peter a glance.

“She’s been part of the very rough week?”

“Yeah. Kind of.”

He seems even further away now. Holding on to the baby as if they were castaways and he had to keep her from drowning. Eden knows she shouldn’t push but she can’t help it… 

“A champion in swear-words… You like her? Carrie?”

“Not right now”, he answers and falls silent. His fingers support the baby’s tiny neck, caressing it ever so tenderly. Eden feels a disturbing kind of yearning. She gets up, vaguely embarrassed. “I should be heading back… let you and Carrie talk business…”

She would stay, gladly, if he said “Please don’t” or “Could you wait for me?” or anything but he doesn’t.

“So, see you later”, she adds and he nods. She doesn’t look back as she leaves.

Left alone, Peter now hears those morons at the next table.

“How do those muslims survive their four wives? Just look at that guy, his two more than any man can handle…”

“Well why, they complement each other - the fat one a comfy cushion to sink in, the crazy one to work on him with nails and teeth… a happy threesome!”

Peter feels a wave of anger washing over him. He considers getting up, walking towards them and… But he can’t. He’s got a baby sleeping on his wishbone. He takes in Franny’s smell of baby-powder and milk. Softly, very softly, he starts humming a lullaby. A lullaby for the baby he never had a chance to hold. He closes his eyes and feels he’s drowning in sadness. A vein on his temple pulsates visibly.

“Can I get you anything before you make that call?”, Carrie asks on her way from bathroom to counter.

“No, I am fine,” he says, not opening his eyes. Not making any calls.  
No talking. No regretting. No longing. Just holding a baby out of harm’s way.

Fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Still don't know where the name Eden comes from. Yeah, the bible, I know that much, but: Is the lady manager in s. 4 really called Eden and I just didn't notice, or how else did it come up? Please enlighten me if you can!


End file.
